Love Beyond Words

by Dani René

  “No.” When he turns to face me fully, he grasps my face, cupping it in his warm hands.

  Leaning in, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. His mouth whispers against the shell of my ear. “I love you, Sunshine. You’re the only woman I want to put my hands on. Do you understand me, Twig?” He places a kiss on my cheek and walks past me, leaving me staring after his broad shoulders.

  He infuriates me, but he also turns me to molten lava. “I love you, Con.” It’s a soft murmur he doesn’t hear, but he reaches up and tips his hat as he heads indoors, and I can’t help frowning at him.

  Walking away from my old life was difficult. It was as if my heart was being torn from my body. The thought of losing my freedom, losing Callie, and everything that I had built wasn’t easy. Fuck, it was painful. But walking away from Leah is as if my soul is being torn from me, as if my very existence is now pointless. Like I’m being strung up and quartered.

  I don’t understand the love I have for her. I can’t explain it. And if you asked me to tell you if I’d ever want to go back in time and forget her, forget the pain and agony that is now beating down on me like an anvil, I’d say no. I want to feel, I want to love, and I want to know what it’s like to have a lifelong connection with someone. With her. Only her. It’s always been her. Fifteen long, fucking years and I’m a goner.

  As I reach the house, I push open the patio door and step inside. It’s quiet and the scent of food hits me. She’s made me dinner. I can’t believe she saw the kiss. I pushed the fucking woman away before anything happened, but of course, Leah saw the worst part of it. When another woman’s lips touched mine.

  In the kitchen, I open the fridge and grab a beer. Opening it, I take a long swig and try to figure out how to fix this. How do I make Leah see that I love her more than life itself?

  I set the bottle on the counter and set the table. Including candles and a glass of red wine that I know she loves. I’m placing the plates on the table when she wanders in. Her gaze flits over the setting, then at me.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice is gentle and I so want to bask in her warmth. Even when she’s sad, her radiance is blinding.

  “I’m going to have dinner. I thought you’d like to join me?” My gaze holds her hostage, and I can see her pulse thrumming beneath the soft skin of her neck. Like a delicate flower blowing in the breeze, this girl seems to hypnotize me.

  “I can.” Two words have me sighing in relief. She’s not pushing me away and she’s no longer cursing me, which is a good sign. Now all I have to do is make her believe how much I love her. She strolls to the place I’ve set for her and settles in the chair. When I’m seated opposite her, I regard her thoughtfully. Her hand reaches for the wine glass and I’m so tempted to touch her, to feel her delicate fingers.

  “Did you have a good day?” I ask, but her gaze tells me all I need to know. She’s hurt. Her eyes are like mirrors, reflecting my pain and agony back at me. We’re both broken, but somehow, I know we’ll be able to repair each other.

  No, we don’t fit like pieces of a puzzle. We don’t complete each other. We’re two equals, two fallen leaves blowing in the breeze. And as the wind carries us further down the road of life, we find our path together.

  “I’m sorry you saw what you did, but my regret is that you didn’t see me push her away. That you didn’t hear me tell her I’m in love with someone else. And I’m more regretful that you’d think even for a moment that I could want someone else like that. I’m not a one-night stand kind of man, Leah. I’m a forever kind of man,” she watches me for a moment before I continue and I wonder if she can hear my heart racing, “If that’s something you can see yourself doing, or that you can accept, then here I am. I’ll bare myself to you. I’ll flay myself open and let you see inside. All the pain, regret, and even the hatred I feel for the way my brother hurt me—it’s all yours to pick at. I’m giving you something I’ve never given anyone. Not even Callie. I’m giving you my soul because you’ve already got my heart. You’ve had it since the moment I opened your first letter, and have kept it until this particular second where I’m looking deep into your eyes.”

  The words sink slowly into my mind, then they knot themselves around my heart. Their grip on my soul is what leaves me both breathless and speechless.

  I can’t find the words to respond, but I don’t have to because he continues, his voice low, raspy, filled with longing. “We’ve had our time to hide, but this right here, this is real. No more hiding. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Ugly or not. You’ll always get honesty from me. I’ll never hurt you. But if you want me to walk away, to just leave you be so you can move on and find someone else, then I’ll do it. As much as it will pain me, I’ll respect you because even though my world will be without sunshine, I’ll remember what it was like to bask in your radiance.”

  She sits so quietly that when I take a swig of beer it’s the only sound in the room. I swear you could hear a pin drop. I can’t say any more, it’s time for her to decide.

  Sitting back, I watch her and take in every inch of her beauty—her curves, her smooth skin, those beautiful soulful eyes that hold so much emotion, and her lips that taste like honey.

  I don’t know how anyone can’t see her.

  Because I do.

  She lifts the glass to her mouth and takes a long sip and I’m enthralled by the way her throat works as she swallows. The way her lips stain with the dark red liquid and the way her fingers toy with the stem of the glass.

  “You know, Heath, when I first saw you on the bus I wanted to sit beside you because of an innate emotion that tugged at me. I wanted to see if you were as intriguing when you opened your eyes as you were asleep. Then when you spoke to me, I wanted to hear you say my name in that deep, gruff drawl. I watched you as you drank your coffee that morning and I wondered how it would feel to have those hands touch me. Those fingers tease me. Those lips mold to mine. But most of all I wondered how on earth I’d be able to climb inside you, to know you, to learn everything I could about you. When I found out you were him, Con, my pen pal, my confidante, I was hurt. It was like you deceived me, but in that pain I found something more. I found the love I had for you. It was deep and unending. It burned through me like a wildfire.” She stops and I hold my breath. Why? Because I can see the decision as her expression changes. But as well as I know this girl, I can’t for the life of me read what her choice is.

  He’s watching me so intently and I know he needs an answer. Heck, I need an answer. “Tell me what happened? Why she was killed?” The question comes out of nowhere. I wasn’t expecting him to give me an honest answer, but the following words out of his mouth are ones I’ll never forget.

  “I was in school, in my last year before graduation and I needed money, quickly. One night in our local bar, I met a man who offered me that money in exchange for me helping him and his boss with certain things. Deliveries. I figured, sounds easy enough. So, I agreed. I followed blindly until I realized that the things they were doing weren’t above board. That’s when I left and moved to a town where I hoped they wouldn’t find me, but these people are good at finding those who don’t want to be found. By then I had met Callie, fallen in love and just wanted to move on from the past. My brother was in so deep that there was no pulling him out. He loved the work, the money, the women that came with that life…” He stops, and I watch as he decides if the truth is worth it. Somehow, I’m not sure it is.

  Fear niggles at me, and I realize that the truth he’s about to tell me is going to shatter not only us, but it’s also going to bring my whole world crashing down. Call it sixth sense if you will. “Heath.”

  “I walked in and found her dead. I knew, or I thought I knew who did it. It all made sense when my brother confessed, not in so many words, but I saw it in his eyes. The man he was working for finally got Ronan in so deep, he’d do anything that was asked of him. My brother wanted Callie and when she rejected him, he decided to take his anger ou
t on her. He confessed to me that day, he recounted it like he was proud of what he did.” His gaze lifts to mine and his words untangle themselves in my mind. And clear as day, sitting opposite him I know what he’s telling me.

  “Okay, but then we need to find him and make him confess on record. Who is his boss? Maybe we can find him and find out what happened.” He stares at me for too long and I know something more is coming. That proverbial bomb is about to drop and fear hits me in the gut.

  Heath’s dark brown eyes pierce me. Holding me hostage to the agony that he pins me with. “Leah, it’s your father. I worked for him for three long years, before he got his claws in to my older brother. Keller, that was him, Martin Keller. He took me in and tried to make me like him, tried to make sure I did as he said, but I never wanted that life. My brother did.” Breathing is difficult and the deafening heartbeat in my ears echoes through me. There’s nothing left of my life, everything I held dear is ripped away from me. I don’t realize it until I taste the saltiness on my lips that I’m crying.

  “You knew?” I croak out the words and I watch Heath nodding slowly through blurry eyes. “You fucking knew who I was!” I’m screeching now, and I can’t stop. My body shakes as I convulse and the agony that slowly seeps through me is enough to have me heaving. But there’s nothing to dispel. All the agony and pain is etched inside me and I can’t push it out no matter how hard I try.

  “Leah, please, I only realized when you told me your last name. I had never seen you, I didn’t know—” He’s up on his feet now, stalking toward me, but I push him away. Tears stream like rain, thick and heavy.

  “Get the fuck away from me! My father called me Twig around every fucking man that worked for him! You fucking knew me!” I head toward the stairs when he reaches for me. Pulling me against him and even as my traitorous body aches, and my heart stirs with longing, I fight in his grasp. “Let. Me. Go.” The words are a low hiss and I hope that they spit venom at him.

  “Your father is a bad man, Leah. Please. Just listen to me. Give me a chance to explain everything.” One final tug and he releases me. He knew my father. He worked for my father. I run up the stairs and into my bedroom, shutting the door and sliding down the wood until I’m on my ass. Curling my legs against me, I sob. I let everything out.

  All the pain and frustration, all those years of wanting him, aching for him, falling for him. Every part of my body wanted him. Every fragment of my heart loved him. And now, every shattered piece of my soul is embedded with memories of him.

  Pushing up, I grab my suitcase and start flinging clothes into it. I need to get out of this house. I need to get as far away from Heath Barnes as possible. There’s no way he didn’t know who I was. If he worked for my father then he would have seen me, known me.

  A soft knock on the door has me stifling the sobs. “Leah, please.” His tone is apologetic, but calm. As much as I’d like to open the door, to see his face, I can’t. The pain in my chest doesn’t allow me to and I just flop onto the bed and stare at the entrance to my room until I hear his soft footfalls on the floor as he walks away. And that has my heart breaking just a little more. The fissure that started downstairs is now a gaping hole.

  Sitting at my desk, I pull the pen and paper from my bag and I write the letter I should have written months ago. Years ago. The one final goodbye. They told me to move on, to be careful, but I didn’t. I was a stupid little girl who believed in fairytales. Now though, now I believe in real life and I know that this experience has changed me. As the words flow, and as my promises turn to goodbyes, I remember him. Every word, smile, and touch. I don’t need to commit him to memory anymore, because he’s forever in me. In the very essence of who I am.

  The days, the nights, all the letters, those are what I’ll walk away with. I’ll hold the love I felt, and still feel, in my heart forever, but this is my final goodbye.

  Folding the letter, I place it in a small envelope and I make sure I have everything I need. When I open the door it’s silent. His bedroom door is shut tight and I wonder what he’s doing inside. Does he feel regret? Is he hurting as much as I am? Shaking my head, I head downstairs. This is for the best. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

  I put the letter on the dining table where I know he will find it and make my way outside. The evening is warm and the taxi I called earlier is waiting in the drive.

  As soon as I slip into the backseat, the driver turns to me. “Where to?”

  “Anywhere but here.” He nods and pulls away. I don’t want to turn around, but I do. And when I glance up, I see him at the window. His hand flat on the pane of glass as he watches me drive away. “Goodbye, Con,” I whisper. He can’t see me, but I know he felt me letting go.

  I feel the rope that tethered us fray and the further away the cab drives, the less I feel him. As if he’s a ghost finally being laid to rest. “There’s a small motel in the next town across, would that be okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” He nods and I sit back and watch the town I wanted to call home pass by. The pain in my chest is unbearable, but I will myself not to cry anymore. I force myself to keep the memories at bay, for now. “Can you stop at the liquor store as well? I need to get something.” Another nod and he turns down the road heading out of Livingston. I don’t know where I’m going, or what I plan to do, but I’ll think about it in the morning. For now, I need a drink and I need to cry. To let it all out.

  I watch the lights head down the drive and with them everything I ever wanted. Torn from my chest, ripped from my body, leaving me nothing but a shell. The same emptiness that I used to feel in my cell, I feel now. Pushing away from the window, I run down the stairs, but I don’t make it to the door. The letter sitting on the dark wooden table is a beacon in the dark that seems to call to me.

  As soon as I pick it up, I know. Before I open it, I feel the agony stifling my breathing. It’s what I dreaded for so many years. That letter. I look at it and wait, but nothing happens. It’s what’s inside that’s going to tear my world apart. It’s as if the paper is whispering to me not to read it. Not to take notice of it. But the masochist in me rips it open and reads it.

  And as each word seeps from the page into my blood, into my being, I slowly break more and more. Breathing becomes more difficult. Memories flood my mind. And the fragmented object in my chest I used to call a heart, stops beating because the one woman I wanted to give everything to has just walked out of my life.

  Con,

  How far we’ve come from that first letter. Here I sit, writing you what will be my final goodbye. Many times over the years I sat staring at the pages, wondering when this time would come. When would I write the fateful word that scared us both. Goodbye. I don’t blame you, I don’t feel any anger toward you. The only emotion that seems to haunt me is sadness. The ache in my heart knowing that you knew me. My father. My family.

  It’s been three months and you didn’t tell me. We’ve seen each other every day and you had plenty of opportunities to come clean, to be honest. But, even so, I don’t blame you.

  I blame me. I’m the one who believed. I’m the one who put my heart on that line after I promised myself I never would. I loved you. I let you into my mind, my heart, my body and ultimately you’ve engrained and embedded yourself deep in my soul. You’ve taken so much of me, but I can’t be angry because you’ve also given so much to me.

  If it weren’t for you, I may never have had the courage to walk away from Ronan. I would never have followed my dream to write. And I may never have known what it was like to feel real love. So in saying that, I thank you, Con. Thank you for giving me something most women crave, but never have. Love. Peace.

  As I spent time with you, I felt it. I knew it and recognized it. I was at peace for the first time in all my life. And it was only in your arms I found it. Nevertheless, our story has to end. So I write the final goodbye.

  Yes, there are tears streaming down my face as I pen this, but I wanted to let you have it on paper so you�
��ll always remember you were special to me. So when you’re alone, open it and read it and know that you were loved.

  I’m sorry I can’t stay. I’m sorry that we’ve now come to our epilogue. There are no bonus chapters. There aren’t any second stories. There’s only this one. And I hope one day, if people find our letters, they’ll know that there was a very real love story that happened between a girl—who was seen as nothing more than a wisp, a twig—and a man who was deemed a killer.

  I hope they see how much that girl, who grew into an adult, loved that man. How much he changed her. How his love for her—even though it may not have been real—made her stronger. He gave her the strength she never knew she lacked and made her a better person. I thought I was meant to make you the better person. The innocent girl changing the convict. But it was the other way around.

  You showed me life.

  You made me live.

  And now, as I write the words I feared to over so many years, I wish you life, love, and I wish you sunshine.

  Goodbye Con,

  Yours,

  Twig xo

  In that very moment, I fall to my knees and cry for the first time in years. In my life, there were many times I thought I’d die. Many ways I could have gotten killed. But loving someone, and having them walk away, is the worst death you can experience, because it keeps you alive to feel it for the rest of your life.

  Knowing they’re out there but chose another path than the one that leads to you. Knowing that they don’t want you, they’d rather find another life, another someone, than to be with you.

  I’m not sure how long I spend on my knees, or even how long I cry, but when I see the light of dawn shining through the window, I push up off my knees and stroll over to the door. Flinging it open, I step outside and feel the crisp morning air. I need to find her. To make this right.